


To Lose a Brother

by randomdwarfgirl



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, M/M, but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdwarfgirl/pseuds/randomdwarfgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no love like the love for a brother. There is no love like the love from a brother - A. Alauda</p><p>Time in middle earth has passed. The war of the ring has been settled and finally, Gimli thinks it's time to send the Tome he found in Moria, in the then long deceased hands of Ori, home to Erebor. </p><p>The home coming of the lost Tome, is recieved differently by each dwarf who is a remaning member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. For they have all lost dear friends, and now... They have lost brothers to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Lose a Brother

Sunny was the day that Gimli, son of Gloin, sent the recovered Tome on its way. A thick and heavy Tome rested beneath the rider’s arm as he set off. Gandalf had presented it to him after Aragorn had been crowned, mentioning that it was a Tome belonging to the people of Erebor, for though not finished it still held a great deal of history. Gimli knew this and spent many nights after that reading through its pages. He shared his grief with Legolas, who had with every gushed word from his lips listened as a friend would. But the day had come that this be returned to Erebor. Gimli wanted to bring it himself, but the fear of being the bearer of such news and other responsibilities made him allow a rider of Rohan— who he trusted with such an important artifact— to deliver it in his stead.  
  
Maybe Gimli hid behind the guise of responsibilities, knowing what reactions it would cause. Knowing that his own pain of reading the pages of the Tome was too dire. He could not be the one to deliver the news. And as he watched the rider of Rohan disappear, a hand fell on his shoulder.  
  
“It is not a shame you burdened this task to someone else; you too lost loved ones in those mines, Gimli.”  
Gimli nodded, no words leaving his lips, but still he stood there till the sun faded.  
  
The Rider was guided into the halls of Erebor, the letter of Gimli and Lord Aragorn tightly between his fingers. His clothes were soaked from the rain that had been pouring since half-way through his journey. Erebor was rebuilding; apparently Gondor had not been the only country at war during the battle in which The Ring was destroyed. The Rider, though, knew that for some people here he would simply be a bearer of more bad news.  
  
Dain had not allowed him to leave just yet. He called upon his advisors, most of who lowered their heads in grief. The messenger could only watch as some were summoned away to retrieve others. He was offered a chair and he sat. He waited. And it wasn't till long that seven dwarves came in. He did not know them, but as the current King under the Mountain stood, words were shared and with it the Tome was presented. It did not take long for the realization to settle in. It did not take long for the news to actually reach their ears. For the words to be understood.  
For years they hadn't heard of their brothers, of their kin who set out to reclaim Moria because their hearts could not settle in Erebor; for reasons not worth mentioning. It did not matter anymore now. The messenger could only watch in mixed horror how all seven of them, one by one, broke down.  
  
 _Dwalin_  
  
Dwalin was the first to break down. He could not and would not believe it. He refused to believe it. His brother would not die by goblin or orc blade. Never. He was a bore and he would die of old age. In a fit of rage and tears he had grasped the collar of the Messenger and shaken him, shaken him so violently the man felt the pain of the dwarf settle in his very core. The Messenger tried to scramble free but failed, hearing the tear of clothes beneath rough and strong fingers but he did not fight. Could not when he saw the pain and the loss in his eyes. He too had lost brothers and he knew all too well the unbearable pain he probably felt. And it was pain that Dwalin felt. Heart clutching unbearble pain that forced all of the air out of him. So he let the dwarf rage, rage like the mighty warrior dwarf that he was.

  


It had taken five guards to get Dwalin off the poor man, who was burdened to deliver such news. He watched how Dwalin almost brawled with the guards again, before sinking down, shoulders wrecking with gut-wrenching sobs.  
  
Never again would he and his brother, share one of their headbuts. Which had been a custom ever since they had gone into their tweens. For the first time it had been an accident. The second time deliberate. And by the third time it was a custom. One that was familiar. One that was of him and his brother. And now, never again would he be able to do this. They would never more fight side by side, slaying down enemies left and right like a well oiled machine. The brother that had given him cover during thunderstorms, and who had shielded him from cold, was no more. Never again would his older brother scold him for being a brute, or care fo him when he had gotten in way over his head again. Never more would he hear his comforting voice telling him tales of the days of old. _Never again..._

  


The remaining six of the of fourteen company sat and absorbed. For all it was different. For all, the pain shot through them with the rages of Dwalin, shouting it wasn’t true. Despite all the warrior that he was, he did love his brother. But each brother they lost today, yet another loved one, the realization struck them well. Long they had known in their hearts that something was not right. It did not take the pain away however. Instead like any brother, they broke. They unraveled.  
  
 _Dori_  
  
Dori had held himself up, but eventually he was second to break. Crying endless tears for the baby brother that he had lost. The baby brother that he had taken care of like a mother hen with their own mother dying. The baby brother who he made clothes for, who he nursed back to health when sick and who he loved despite his somewhat odd personality. His baby brother who had with confidence in his words spoken that when Moria was taken back, he and Nori should visit. And Dori and Nori had laughed, brushed it off. Telling him not to get ahead of himself. To take care and to keep warm. Dori still remembered the smile on his brothers face, as he and Nori had waved him off. But deep down; Dori, however— maybe secretly— had always known that things were not right. For when the letters stopped coming, he knew something was wrong.  
  
It did nothing for the pain though. Nothing at all.  
  
Dori looked up through tear filled eyes as he saw Dain look upon him, with the kindness a King would give his people. For a small moment Dori felt more pain because he knew Thorin would have given a much better look. Would have offered an actual shoulder to cry upon. For a moment the pain reawakened that he had felt so many years ago with the loss of the King; who he had followed to reclaim this country. The king that had given all, including his life, for the sake of his people. This kingdom. But as Dain pressed the Tome into his hands, speaking words of how this was a treasure to his family and would be theirs and forever an important artifact to the Kingdom of Erebor, the loss of a long lost King was pushed aside. His baby brother who had given all of his skills to writing down the amazing legends and stories of dwarves this age, was no more. And he hadn't even been able to finish the Tome, currently in his hands. King be damned, cause for once, Dori would gladly given all of the gold in Erebor, if it meant for his baby brother to be brought back. 

  


_His baby brother was no more. Their small little Ori had gone before they had._  
  
What probably pained Dori the most was that he had not been there to protect him. Hands clutched to the edges of the book, pressing it against his chest as tears fell onto the leather cover. Worn brown, with damages to the edges. Carefully stitched and put together with seemingly golden thread. He had failed as an older brother. Failed to save him or to mother hen him. Ori had told him when he had left that he had always appreciated his care. And Dori had huffed that he was just saying that and he was probably glad he would have to endure no more. Dori sat on the stairs and did nothing to hide his tears; none blamed him.  
  
 _Nori_  
  
Nori had never felt his heart break. Not until that moment. His fists were clenched and nails dug angrily into the flesh of his own palms. He looked away; he ignored his brothers’ sobs. He had to ignore them, for with every sob his brothers allowed to escape he himself was that much closer to breaking. Nori laid a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed. Ori, small, clumsy Ori. Always mommy’s little boy. Even when their mother had passed away, for then Dori had taken the roll of mother. Including on him, for with every small thieving crime he had committed Dori had whacked him on the head with a spoon. It did not matter anymore, or so it felt like that. Ori, sweet little Ori, was gone.  
  
Flashes of little Ori running after him as he was up to no good. Begging him, his cool big brother Nori, to let him go along. And Nori could never really say no, whenever Ori gave him that adorable look. Flashes of Ori getting them caught while pick-pocketing in a human town. Of big innocent eyes looking up in question to his own panicked ones -or so he imagined. It hadn't taken him long to realise that leaving would be good. And with that he had lifted small little Ori up under his arms and had to run unlike any dwarf had ever run before. He would have scolded Ori had it not been for the gleeful and happy noises he made. The way he clung to his side, rubbing his face against his sweater when they had ran a long distance. Hiding behind a few barrels. Never could he be angry at Ori. And as Ori had promply fallen asleep against him. Nori had sworn that he would be a big brother one could be proud of. And thus; Nori always protected him from the shadows, after all he wanted his little brother to grow to a fierce and capable dwarf himself. But always, he watched from the shadows…  
  
 _Until he left and watching him from the shadows had no longer been a gift granted to him._  
  


Nori stayed strong for Dori. Stayed strong like his brother had stayed strong for him so many times. He stayed strong until he would later drop Dori off at his house. The moment he knew his brother had laid his head in bed, and had cried himself to sleep, Nori left. With a last concerned glance to his brother. Clinging to that Tome for dear life. He closed and locked the door. Thunderous heartbeats and then it came. Only now that he was alone, could he be weak. Only now that he was alone, would he let himself slip.  
That night Nori would drink himself drunk till he looked cross-eyed. Drunk till he would barely be able to remember his own name. And yet his brother would be fierce in his mind still, for no amount of liquor could make him forget. No amount of liqour could push the pain of no more little Ori away. He would start brawls and fights. Would put all his anger and frustrations into his punches. And all the punches and beatings he would get, he would use as an excuse. Would use them as an excuse to let himself cry, sob and shout. For he could cry because of physical pain. He could not admit to crying over losing his baby brother. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not even when Dwalin would carry him home after pulling him out of a brawl. Not even when Dwalin would pin him down to stop his struggling to look at the bruises and cuts. Not even when Dwalin’s own eyes were still wet with tears of his own. Not even when he would wake up in the morning next to Dawlin, both still sick from grief and loss. Not even if they found comfort in one another’s arms. Not even then, would he admit he cried because of the loss of his baby brother.

  


Because then it would be like truly admitting his baby brother was no more.  
And Nori was not yet ready for that.  
  
 _Gloin_  
  
Gloin stood impassive at first. Dain, however, passed him a letter and he realized he didn’t even hear the King’s words. As if all of a sudden his brothers’ hearing problem had become his own. He opened the letter. Words written by Gimli’s hand. Apologies to him for not being strong enough to bear the news to his father of his own brother dying. But Gloin felt no resentment for his son, nor blame. Gloin did not cry, and did not weep. He did not shout. He merely looked at his companions, giving each a squeeze on the shoulder before he returned home. Ignoring the glance of the King that followed after him.  
  
Gloin did not cry. His brother had been of age as it was, and he was certain he had died an honorable death. Defending the part of Moria that they had reclaimed with all of his strength. He knew his brother, he had no doubt of this. And he had always known that his brother would rather die on the battlefield than at home of old age. He did not cry or weep, but when he came home to his wife she saw in his face that there was a pain. And it only took her one touch to have her husband breaking. The letter clutched in his hand as the words spilled over lips and beard. And his wife cradled her husband like a mother would her son. She cradled him as a few tears of her own pricked at the corners of her eyes. Blinking them away, her gaze travelling, only to have tears well up again for the loss of her husband. Her eyes falling to the ear trumpet that Oin had left behind.  
  
 _‘You might need it one day brother; I have a new one. It will serve me well in Moria.’_  
  
Gloin did not leave the embrace of his wife that evening. And his wife was content with giving her husband all of the strength she could give.  
  
 _Bofur, Bombur and Bifur_  
  
Bofur could only watch with a friendly and aged gaze to the pain that came over his companions. His former companions. He felt his own eyes tear for the friends that he lost, but he knew the pain for them must be ten times worse. He only half realized that Bombur had grasped his right hand, and as he looked he watched how another big hand of his brother covered his own eyes. The sobs escaping his lips however, still gave away the tears he was grieving for his friends. Bofur squeezed his brother’s hand, fully aware of how much luck he had to still have his brother with him. And Bofur did not hesitate to take Bifur’s hand into his own as well. His cousin, who was as good as a brother to him as well, said nothing. He cried no tears but Bofur knew that his brother’s heart inside was breaking with every sob his former companions were grieving.  
  
Bofur, Bombur and Bifur had been asked to help take some of the work tasks of the others. And all three of them had accepted. Anything to help their grieving companions who lost their brothers. Bofur walked over to the Messenger, who had all in all been slightly forgotten. Bofur made no mention of the eyes that streaked the Messengers face but helped him up and brought him to the room where he would rest and be fed.  
  
That night Bofur, his brother and cousin sat down eating their dinner. No wild tales by Bofur were told, and no over eating was done on Bomburs’ part. Bifur held his gaze solemn and all three of them ate in silence; in remembrance of all the many nights they had spent around the campfire with their companions. Merry with laughter, or brooding with annoyance. In sunshine and rain, in autumn and spring. With dancing and crying, with laughter and shouting. All three held still, for they knew that maybe not today, nor tomorrow, they would experience not only the loss of a friend, but a brother too. Just like their companions had today.  
So they ate in silence and prayed that day would still keep far away.

_Messenger_

It took days to regain his strength again from the long journey he had made, but upon the fourth day he was ready to leave again. His own heart ached heavily for he was again confronted with loss and only just after he had gotten over his own. He had been surprised that on the second day he had received apologies. And he had declined, instead giving words of strength, words of advice to a dwarf who had lost a brother, for he had lost his own. 

  


Riding away from Erebor with a heavy heart the messenger knew he would make a stop before returning home. By a grave of the one person who had always supported him no matter what, loved him no matter what and who he had grieved for beyond imagining.  
For the Love of a brother goes deep and nestles itself inside your body in ways one can’t imagine.  
  
And the loss of a brother is one which you will never forget.  
  
One that will never lessen.

**Author's Note:**

> this was filled for a prompt on the hobbit kink-meme. This is the first prompt I filled that I felt worthy enough to place online here. I'm currently going through some lose myself, and I used my grief to write this. It's all written from the heart. 
> 
> There's a light hint of Dwalin/Nori, if you squint your eyes. I could not help myself. 
> 
> For the original post and prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?thread=4105282t4105282
> 
> So according to what I gathered the dwarves that remained in Erebor were: Dwalin, Nori, Dori, Gloin, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur.  
> (Bilbo had returned home. Thorin, Fili & Kili (though it pains my heart to say) died during the battle of the five armies. And finally Balin, Ori and Oin left to try and reclaim Moria.)


End file.
